


calm

by CapnShellhead



Series: Kinktober 2018 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Daddy Kink, Kinktober, M/M, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: Coulson was assigned to be Stark's handler. Stark didn't take to following orders the way Coulson expected.





	calm

**Author's Note:**

> What an odd pairing for me to write, right? But day 6 of kinktober had "daddy" as a prompt and I was astounded that I couldn't figure out how to make that work for one of my usual pairings. The other dynamics just didn't fit.
> 
> So, this was kind of an experiment. I tend to fall in love with every random pairing I write and I found something to love here, as well. 
> 
> Drop me a line, let me know what you think!

The first time it happened, Stark was being annoying.

Coulson prided himself on his patience. He wouldn’t have gotten to this level of clearance without a great deal of it. First, it was Fury saddling him with Barton. The blond had grown on him but he’d been quite the handful in the beginning. Then he’d returned with his own pet project, Natasha, a woman Fury had taken quite a shining to. The end result was Coulson becoming a handler to two people who were less comfortable doing the right thing than the wrong thing. But, they’d wanted to change and that alone helped Coulson find the patience to help them.

He appreciated those who were willing to ask for help. Which was partially why, on that day, he’d forced himself to take a deep breath and calmly respond to Stark’s fiftieth request.

“No, Mr. Stark, I cannot ask Fury to let you install a backdoor into the SHIELD servers.”

Stark kicked his feet up on Coulson’s desk, tapping away at his phone. It was mildly annoying, incredibly rude but Coulson quickly learned that it was best to pick his battles with Stark. He got a ridiculous sense of joy out of riling other people up.

“It’s for your own good. When you get hacked, and I say ‘when’ because it is  _ inevitable _ , you will wish you had a backup of all your super, secret spy data.”

“Is that a threat?” Stark looked up, clearly affronted. “Are you planning on hacking us?”

“Would I do that?”

“Would you do that, again, you mean?” Coulson asked and Tony rolled his eyes but, if he didn’t know any better, Coulson would say it was fond.

They’d been working together the past six months. Coulson had, inadvertently, become Stark’s handler of sorts. Mostly because Fury had known Howard and knew Tony wouldn’t respond well to someone who’d known his father. Well, that and Fury’s command style was more likely to cause Stark to rebel, rather than cooperate. 

Coulson would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed some of their time together. However, it was easy to forget that at the moment. “I’m trying to be helpful.”

“You’re trying to get a look at secured files. For what, I don’t know but, you can be sure I’ll find out,” he said firmly, returning to his paperwork. His door had been closed but that hadn’t kept Tony from simply opening it and inserting himself in Coulson’s desk chair. He was the only person on the helicarrier that felt comfortable doing that.

“You know, I was going down a very bad path not that long ago. I’m trying to be a better person,” he began.

“So, I’ve seen.”

“Then you should know why it’s important to encourage my strides towards enlightenment.”

“You read that in a fortune cookie,” Coulson replied and Stark huffed out a laugh. Coulson pointedly ignored the part of him that was warring between anger and dogged affection.

“Still counts.”

“You should know better than to think Fury would ever consider it.”

“Come on, Agent M, help me, help you.”

“Stark,” he warned, his temper starting to flare.

“Help me, help you.”

“Stark-“

“Help me, help you-“

“Tony,” Coulson snapped, his voice firm and louder than it’d been before. Stark’s eyes were wide, focused on is as his breath caught. He was frozen in place, swallowing thickly as Coulson set his pen down calmly. He tried to soften his tone as he spoke, “I said ‘no’ and that’s final.”

He held Stark’s gaze, his body warm even as his voice remained steady. “Understood?”

Stark nodded once, unusually quiet. Coulson regretted yelling, even though he hadn’t’ raised his voice by much. Research suggested it was the perfect way to get Stark to be more combative than cooperative. Research Coulson hadn’t liked doing, hadn’t liked asking Clint to do, but it was necessary. Stark wasn’t staring at him like he was scared; merely surprised. Shocked, even, as he stood on shaky legs and waved a hand. Coulson was tempted to call him over and check but Stark was already stuttering out a farewell.

“Got it. See you around, Agent.”

+

It didn’t happen again for a while.

Stark continued on “consulting” and going out in the field only when absolutely necessary. He checked in when he remembered, or when Coulson pestered him. He’d even begun to get along with Clint, though Coulson wasn’t sure that was such a hot idea. The little bit of time Coulson spent alone with Stark, he never mentioned their argument. He seemed to want to forget about it and, Coulson allowed him that. He’d lost his temper and that was regrettable. Although research suggested, Tony was more likely to withdraw if Coulson brought it up, he felt he need to apologize.

He cornered Stark on the helipad after a trip on the border of Latveria. Technically, SHIELD hadn’t been allowed to operate in the area: much too close to giving off the appearance of interference. But, seeing as Stark wasn’t an agent and was simply a “consultant”, there was no restriction on where he could and couldn’t go.

He pulled off his helmet, striding towards Coulson with a bright smile, his hair windswept and askew. Coulson returned the smile, albeit with a blander one. “Mr. Stark.”

“Agent Scully,” he greeted.

“Cute. Follow me, please.” He gestured over towards the corner of the hangar, where no one would overhear. Stark complied, running a hand through his hair. He spelled of oil and hot metal, standing quite a few more inches above Coulson. “About what happened a few months ago-“

Stark’s mouth twitched and he looked away rather quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I raised my voice and-“

“It was nothing. You barely even raised it. It was like a loud whisper.”

“It was uncalled for,” Coulson said firmly, catching Stark’s attention. His eyes widened, almost in disbelief as Coulson continued. “I was frustrated and I should have calmly told you to stop asking but I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

Stark’s mouth fell open wordlessly before he forced out a laugh and lowered his head. “Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal. I’m gonna go change. See you around.”

+

And just like that, Coulson found Stark in his office once again. Even more so than before.

He pushed more. Often times, he would say things contrary to Coulson’s words in an attempt to pick fights. Coulson had noticed this tactic a lot with Clint and treated Stark the exact same way: with bland congeniality. Stark would say something controversial, Coulson with smile and give a kind response. Every time, Stark would pick and pick and pick until he got bored and entertained himself some other way.

Then, he tried a tactic Barton hadn't employed. Self-endangerment.

Perhaps, Romanoff’s arrival had kept Clint from resorting to such lengths but, seeing as Coulson had never had to deal with this, he didn’t respond all that well.

Fury sent Iron Man on a mission to gather intel for a new heat seeking missile AIM had invented. It was a recon mission only and there was no reason for Stark to engage. In fact, they would have sent Romanoff if they hadn’t needed someone with extensive knowledge of weapons development. As a requirement, Tony was ordered to keep in constant contact the entire time.

He kept up a steady stream, mostly nothing related opt the mission. Coulson would’ve told him to keep the chatter to a minimum except it allowed him to focus on his reports and listen to the feed while Fury kept a close eye on the visuals.

Then he heard a curse and he sat up, looking to Fury’s stance the tense lines of his body. “Stark? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“Nothing, nothing,” Stark replied with a grunt and another curse.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“You wanted to know what they were working on. I can do you one better.” A loud crash and then the sounds of gunfire.

“Stark, get out of there!”

“I’ve almost got it!”

“Stark, that’s an order!”

“You’re really loud, you know?” Hushed breathing a pained groan. “I got your toy, okay. Safe and sound.”

“Get out of there, now!”

“I thought you promised to stop yelling?”

Coulson’s temper started to flare up but he realized how useless it was, seeing as Stark wasn’t anywhere near enough for it to be useful. He paced, his eyes trained on the feed from Stark’s armor. He watched as the armor zoomed through the labs, took down an endless number of security guards before Iron Man made it back into the open, headed back towards the Helicarrier.

The other agents started to mill around once more, working on extraction. Fury came over to Coulson, his expression blank as ever. For a moment, Coulson wanted to hit him. He should have known better than to send Stark somewhere like a weapons development lab and expect him to walk out empty handed. His entire story was centered around stopping weapons from being used on defenseless people. Of course, he wouldn’t have come out empty handed.

And Fury had known that.

“Jesus Christ, Fury,” he muttered, striding from the room.

“He was in position.”

“You made sure of that,” Coulson spat, leaving the control room.

 

 

When Coulson found Stark, he was in the med bay, an oxygen mask over his face. He waved at Coulson, blanching as Coulson strode over quickly.

“You are benched until further notice.”

Eyes widening, he pulled the mask off to argue. “Excuse me? I did your job!”

“You were supposed to just gather data. In and out. That was the plan”

“Well it was a shitty plan!”

“It was a safe plan,” Coulson said calmly, his heart starting to beat faster. Stark was relatively free of injury, a few bruises on his face but he didn’t appear to be nursing and bruised ribs or broken bones. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”

Stark’s mouth worked, a little uncertain for a second. “I’m fine.”

“What’s the oxygen for?”

“It’s nothing-“ Stark began as Coulson turned to the nurse.

“What’s the oxygen for?”

“The pulse oximeter reading was a little concerning. We’re just being careful,” he replied, gesturing to Stark’s vital signs.

Nodding, Coulson sent him away and returned to Stark. “I’m fine,” he reiterated.

“And you’ll stay that way, on the bench.”

“This is just because I’m not one of your pet spies.”

“Is that what this was about?” Coulson asked urgently. “You wanted attention.”

“Stop making me sound like a child.”

“Stop acting like one.”

“I am just as good as the creepy twins. Even better at some things. You never believed in me.”

“And why should that change when I gave you an order and you disobeyed me?”

“You’re not my dad!”

“I’ve never tried to be,” Coulson replied, his breathing labored. It was then that he realized he’d moved in closer, standing a few feet away and towering over Stark where he sat on the cot. He was gazing up at Coulson, a curious look in his eye.

He licked his lips, “I thought you’d be happy.” Coulson stared at him quietly and Stark muttered, “I won’t do it again.”

+

Stark took to being benched the way Coulson expected: continuously hounding Coulson to take him off of it. He camped out outside Coulson’s office, called him constantly, sent him five hundred emails and IMs. Coulson had watched quite a bit of Supernanny and, while Stark wasn’t a child, the methods he found there seemed to be somewhat helpful. At least, they had been with Barton. The key was the be consistent. He gave no quarter, kept up the punishment and stood his ground.

Until he found Stark in his office one night, dark circles under his eyes. It tugged at Coulson’s heart strings and he closed the door behind him, moving to stand in front of his chair. Stark blinked up at him silently, simply studying Coulson for a long moment before he spoke in a rasping voice.

“Please, take me back.”

“I didn’t fire you, Stark. You’re just resting. Take the time as a vacation.”

“I need to work.”

“You have a company to run. You can work.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do and you know what I said. I’m not going back on my word because you’re finding it hard to relax.” He moved to sit behind his desk.

“This isn’t fair and you know it.”

“I gave you an order. You disobeyed.”

“You gave me a mission. You’re punishing me for taking initiative.”

“You need to learn when enough is enough.”

“I got you the specs and the tech.”

“Stark-“

“I got you more than your spies had managed in months.”

“Stark-“

“I did you a favor-“

“You almost died!” Coulson shouted, slamming his hand on the desk. “That’s what you did. You went out in the field, on your own, nothing but a feed back to the control room. If you needed me, I couldn’t get there in time to help you.”

Stark stared at him, almost confusedly. Swallowing, he stood on shaky legs and came around the desk. Coulson tensed, sure that he was going to plead, once more, for Coulson to lift his ban. Even worse, Coulson wasn’t sure he’d be able to say no to that face. Then, to Coulson’s shock, Stark kneeled before him, gazing up at Coulson from between his thighs.

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

Coulson held his gaze, the vulnerability in his soft brown eyes, the calm he found there. Stark was comfortable here, kneeling before Coulson. Coulson didn’t quite understand it; nothing in his research suggested he’d respond this way to discipline. Hesitant, Coulson reached out, his stomach tightening as he cupped the back of Stark’s head. It earned a brief shudder, though not in fear or tension. Stark’s eyes darkened, focused on Coulson’s and making his stomach tighten with a heat he pushed down immediately.

“I’m responsible for you,” Coulson said calmly. Stark nodded silently. “If you get hurt, that’s my fault. And I don’t want that to happen, you understand?” Another nod. “Not just because my job is on the line. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” he said firmly.

Stark nodded, his gaze a bit dazed as he moved in closer. Coulson tensed, careful not to direct Stark with the hand on the back of his head. He held Coulson’s gaze as his face moved in closer to Coulson’s groin. That heat rekindled, his cock taking interest even as he shoved it down. Then Stark rest his cheek on Coulson’s thigh, his breath warm and hot through Coulson’s slacks.

Sighing, Coulson carded his fingers through Stark’s hair, petting him softly. He supposed this was okay. Unorthodox, but rather harmless in comparison. Stark shuddered, letting out a soft moan in pleasure. Coulson’s cock jerked in response but he focused on indulging Stark, the way his eyes fell closed in supplication. This was providing some sort of comfort for him that Coulson should question more later.

For now, he sat in the dim lighting of his office scratching lightly at Stark’s scalp and watching him lose himself in the quiet.

+

It happened a few times.

Namely, when Stark was upset. He would come to Coulson with some frustration in an experiment Coulson couldn’t possibly understand. It was technically part of his job as Stark’s handler to calm him when he was worried. Perhaps, this wasn’t exactly what Fury had in mind but, it worked. Stark would crawl behind his desk and rest his cheek on Coulson’s thigh. Coulson would stroke his hair, keep the sound level to a minimum and help Stark relax.

He didn’t always stop working. Sometimes, Stark would crawl behind his desk, rest his cheek on Coulson’s thigh and he’d continue filing reports, adding notes to Clint’s files. Stark didn’t seem to mind. The comfort came from the contact, it seemed and Coulson’s maintained that rather well. He had boundaries: Stark wasn’t permitted to visit his quarters. He wasn’t permitted to demanded it when Coulson was in meetings. He certainly wasn’t permitted to mention it to Fury, though that went without saying.

It worked for them. Coulson had been a handler long enough to learn that every charge needed their own special touch. Coulson couldn’t imagine Clint responding well to this, nor would Romanoff. For Stark, this worked and that was enough for Coulson. It was a comfort method that worked for him.

It wasn’t for Coulson. Initially.

Stark had been better behaved the past few weeks but he was still Stark. He was still prone to self-endangering acts; particularly when he felt the mission was more important. He’d gotten shot out of the sky on his first call out post probation. They’d lost contact immediately after, only able to gauge that Stark was somewhere over or in the Atlantic Ocean. Coulson had tried his best of focus on Clint’s debrief while they searched for Stark but even Clint had gotten frustrated with how little Coulson cared at the moment.

He called it early, commandeered a jet and flew Coulson out to London where the search was coordinated. He’d been present when they fished Stark out of the water and he’d watched as the doctors conducted the exam after. Stark was okay; he’d gotten out without a scratch on him but he was unconscious for the time being. After he’d woken up, they conducted another exam but there was no change. Stark was fine. Completely healthy.

But that didn’t comfort Coulson much at all.

Stark closed the door to their hotel room and shed his armor like a second skin. He strode towards Coulson on steady legs, his mouth working before he came to a stop before him. His foot tapped on the floor impatiently, his fingers tapping nervously at his sides. He was anxious, clearly worried Coulson would bench him again.

Even on edge, Coulson kept his voice calm. “Come here,” he commanded.

Stark kneeled in an instant, moving in with a grateful look. Coulson cupped the back of his head and guided it to his lap, insides twisting at Stark’s soft sigh of relief. Coulson stroked his hair, calming himself as he did. The room was quiet save for the soft sounds of their breathing. After half an hour, Coulson felt more in control.

Then Stark reached for his zipper. Coulson tensed, his hand halting in Stark’s hair. He froze, a distressed sound escaping before Coulson continued petting him. Stark looked up at him, holding Coulson’s gaze as he slowly tugged the zipper down and reached inside. Coulson was hard; he wasn’t sure just how long he’d been ignoring it.

The feel of it beneath Stark’s hand seemed to give him the encouragement he needed. He cupped it tentatively, pressing down harder when Coulson didn’t object. He reached inside and grasped the length, tugging on it insistently. Coulson’ breath caught, nails scratching lightly along Stark’s scalp as he lapped gently at the head.

This was crossing the line. Comfort or not, Stark initiated or not, Fury wouldn’t allow this.

He pulled his hand up to cup his face, his thumb stroking his cheek. Then he pulled Stark in closer, letting out a shuddering breath as the head of his cock slid over Stark’s tongue. His eyes fell closed in pleasure, letting the length fill his mouth inch by inch. Brow furrowed, he focused intently as he lightly sucked. Pulling off, he slid his tongue along the underside, stroking Coulson as he worked. He was good at this, but more than that… he was enjoying it.

It seemed to calm him as much as what they’d done before. The stress lines had faded, the nervousness as well. In their place, a beautiful calm in which Tony bobbed his head and took Coulson down to the root. Coulson shuddered, his vision whiting out as he felt the heat pooling in his center start to reach a peak. He tried to focus on the peeling wallpaper, the bland paintings on the wall, think about what he’d do when Fury inevitably found out. Anything but the intoxicating feel of Stark’s mouth wet and hot, snug around his cock. Anything to keep this going but it was too much.

His hand tightened in Stark’s hair, head falling back as he spilled down Stark’s throat with a hushed and needy, “Tony.”

He’d never be sure if it was the name or the taste of his come but Tony shuddered, eyes clenching shut as he moaned around Coulson’s length. His shoulder’s tensed, his body incredibly still as Coulson shook with the aftershocks and watched him come in his undersuit. He scratched at Tony’s scalp, encouraging him as he shivered, careful of Coulson’s length in his mouth.

Finally, he settled, pulling back a little as he breathed. Coulson expected him to pull off. Instead, he settled, Coulson’s softening cock warm in his mouth as he rested his cheek on Coulson’s thigh. He stayed there for a while, just breathing silently. Coulson thumbed the hollow of his cheek, pushed his hair back from his forehead and stroked his head.

+

The next few times, Coulson tried to stop it.

The first, after Tony came to him after a screaming session with Fury. Coulson lasted approximately three minutes before Tony’s hand on his groin left him lightheaded and he found himself sitting on the edge of his desk with Tony tearing at his zipper.

The second, after the Stark gala and Coulson had stopped Tony from dragging him off to the bathroom. The back of his limo was fair game.

The third time, after Fury had tried to bench Tony. Coulson had agreed, refusing to budge, even after Tony fell to his knees and tried to change his mind.

Then Coulson went with a team out to Dubai and nearly came back in a body bag. The mission hadn’t been ideal from the get go: too many variables and too much intel from sources they hadn’t been sure they could trust. But it was either take the risk or miss their chance to gather intel on the new up and comer, Madame Hydra. There was no question: Coulson had to go.

When he’d returned, a little bruised, his left wrist in a cast, Tony was waiting for him in his office. He was pacing, checking his phone and running a hand through his hair. For a moment, Coulson was struck with a near overwhelming sense of relief and, dare he say it, joy, at seeing Tony safe and sound. He shoved it down, closing the door behind himself as he entered.

Tony burst into action, rushing towards him before he stopped himself, scanning Coulson from head to toe. “You’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Coulson said. And then, because Tony didn’t believe him, he said it in a firmer tone, “I’m fine, Tony.”

Tony shook his head, words coming out in a rush, “You could have called. I could have – I could have helped! I fly around in a fancy suit of armor, you know that?” He looked to Coulson, his eyes fiercely bright. “Why didn’t they send me?”

“Too risky,” Coulson replied simply, moving to sit down at his chair. “It was a long shot but one we couldn’t afford not to take. And I’m expendable.”

Tony’s eyes widened in pain, a sight that stopped Coulson mid-sentence. Tony’s voice was harsh, “You are  _ not _ expendable.”

“It’s okay,” he started to reply when Tony came around the desk and kneeled in front of him. Instead of resting his head on Coulson’s lap, his buried his face in Coulson’s stomach. Coulson stroked his hair, his voice calm. “It’s okay, Tony. I’m okay.”

Tony’s breath was hot on his stomach, he stayed there for a moment, just breathing. Then his hands reached for Coulson’s zipper. Sighing, Coulson relaxed in his chair, brushing Tony’s hair back from his forehead as he took the head in his mouth. He held Coulson’s gaze, almost as if he expected reproach.

It was then that Coulson finally understood what Tony sought here. It wasn’t just the closeness or the release of tension through an outlet he was more comfortable with. Coulson tried a small smile, scratching at Tony’s scalp.

“So good for me,” he murmured, earning a shudder and a stifled moan. His stomach tightened, his cock pulsing hard in Tony’s mouth. He sucked harder, losing himself in the task as Coulson offered soft encouragements. “Take such good care of me.”

Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his thighs spreading wider as he worked. He chased more of Coulson’s praise, shivering in pleasure with every compliment. Coulson wouldn’t last long, his control starting to wane. He held fast Tony’s hair, pulling him in closer and groaning as Tony took him eagerly, his face burning.

“That’s it. Take all of it. So good,” he praised, earning a soft whine. “Such a good boy for Daddy.”

Tony let out a soft keen, eyes clenching shut as his shoulders stiffened and he reached for his groin. Coulson allowed it, thumbing Tony’s bottom lip, stretched wide around his cock. He pushed Tony back a little, resting the head on his tongue as he came with a breathy groan. Tony welcomed it, eyes opening dazedly as Coulson filled his mouth. Finally, he rested his cheek on Coulson’s thigh with a sated sigh.

“You’re beginning to need this,” Coulson noted quietly. Tony blinked up at him silently, watching as Coulson shook his head fondly and added, “We’re going to have to set some ground rules.”

+

Coulson was fairly certain Fury knew.

He hadn’t come right out and said anything. Coulson knew enough to have his office regularly swept for bugs. And he knew enough to know Tony regularly had Coulson’s office swept for bugs. Still, he was fairly certain Fury knew because he came to Coulson whenever Tony needed discipline. Before, if he was angry enough, he’d go to Tony himself.

Now, it was Coulson’s job to call Tony into his office and get him to behave.

Tony closed the door behind him, eying Coulson nervously as he did. He removed his blazer, his slacks and his shirt. He came to kneel between Coulson’s knees bare and expectant. Coulson rose a brow, his voice calm. “Why are you refusing to listen to Fury’s orders?”

“He’s not the boss of me.”

“When you’re in the field, he is,” Coulson corrected, eying the dismissive edge to Tony’s sigh. “What is this about?”

“Nothing. Just, give me my punishment and we can get on with it.”

“You have to understand what you did wrong.”

“Just get on with it-“

“This is part of the rules,” Coulson cut in. He’d learned it was best to cut in before Tony got himself going. Saved him a lot of time circling around to Tony realizing when he was making unnecessary trouble for himself. “If you can’t follow them, this ends.”

“Because I won’t listen to Fury?”

“Because you won’t listen to Fury,” Coulson repeated firmly. At Tony’s glare, he sighed, gesturing for Tony to move in closer. He cupped Tony’s face, holding his gaze firmly, “What is this about?”

The stubborn twist to Tony’s mouth remained for a moment before he softened at Coulson’s calm expression. “I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to. But when you’re out in the field, you have to listen to his orders.” Tony started to turn but Coulson held fast. “I don’t trust him. But I trust him to take care of you out there. Especially, when I can’t be. You hear me?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed for a second before he nodded. Coulson studied him a moment longer before nodded, dropping a kiss to his lips. Tony chased another, rising up from his place on the floor before Coulson pulled back.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry.”

“Good,” he replied, pulling at the fastening to his pants. Tony started to reach when Coulson shook his head. “Stand up.”

Tony complied, bending at the waist when Coulson pushed at his back. Spreading Tony’s cheeks softly, his breath caught at the sight of the small pink plug in his ass, his rim stretched wide around it. He circled the tight pucker with a dry thumb, earning a breathy moan.

“You were good?” Tony nodded eagerly, pushing back into Coulson’s hands. He spanked him once, reminding him to behave. “You were good for me?”

“I didn’t touch,” he replied.

Coulson nodded, satisfied as he slowly removed the plug. It came out with a smooth slide, Tony’s rim clenching around nothing desperately. He sat down in his chair, grabbing the lube from his desk drawer and slicking his fingers. They slid into Tony’s ass rather easily, the hole welcoming him in greedily. Coulson stroked his cock as he plunged his fingers deep inside. Tony shivered, fighting not to push back on Coulson’s fingers.

Finally, Coulson pulled him to hover over his cock. Slowly, Tony sank down on his length, a low moan escaping as Coulson split him open wider than his plug. He bottomed out with a quick intake of breath, Tony’s back resting against his chest. He slid a hand up his stomach, careful of the scar tissue Tony was still rather self-conscious about. He petted his stomach as he rocked them gently, Tony’s cock brushing the back of his hand as they moved.

“Thank you,” Coulson said softly, reaching up to thumb a hard nipple. “You’ve been so well behaved for me.”

Tony shook his head, his lip caught between his teeth before he mumbled. “Got in trouble.”

“You’ve been well behaved for me,” Coulson said firmly, petting Tony’s chest. “I appreciate it.”

Tony shivered and it was one of those things that both fascinated Coulson and left him off kilter. He could praise Tony for all manner of sexual acts, praise his intelligence and his work in the field, no problem at all. Should he do something as simple as genuinely express gratitude or tell Tony he’d done a good job for him and Tony couldn’t handle it.

He thrust into Tony roughly, trusting him to say “when”. Tony’s head fell back against his shoulder, his breathing quickening as he let Coulson take over. He wasn’t going to last long, his cock hard and wet as Coulson took hold of it. He stroked him firmly, murmuring soft encouragements in Tony’s ear.

“So wet for me,” he noted, earning a needy groan. He pushed into him, stroking Tony faster. His breath caught, his cock pulsing hard in Coulson’s grip. “That’s it. Just like that. Come for Daddy.”

Tony’s thighs tightened, shaking his head quickly as he pushed into Coulson’s grip. “Just a little bit longer,” he begged.

This was a new thing for him; staving off his orgasm for as long as he could take it. Coulson wasn’t sure if the delayed gratification was a self-sabotaging thing or an attempt to make their time together last longer. Either way, he sped up, thrusting into Tony harder, letting out a soft grunt as he worked.

Tony cried out, back arching as he clamped down around Coulson’s cock and shot along his belly and the carpet. “Good boy,” he praised, earning another thick spurt.

The tight, wet squeeze around his cock brought him over the edge as he nosed into Tony’s cheek and pumped him full of come. Tony groaned, petting Coulson’s cheek as he fucked into him lazily. “So good, so good for me, baby,” he crooned. Tony preened, rocking his hips gently, milking as much as he could get. Coulson sighed, petting his stomach gently. “Just sit here. Keep Daddy’s cock warm.”

Nodding, Tony rest against his chest with a sated sigh. His voice was soft, “Good?”

Coulson kissed his cheek, murmuring, “You were very good.”


End file.
